


Pow: Right In The Kissah (Alt. Wound and Kiss)

by TheCobraOfHell



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Gunshot Wounds, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7893211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCobraOfHell/pseuds/TheCobraOfHell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanzo likes McCree, more than a friend, more than more than a friend. But it's only when McCree has been severely wounded and bed-ridden that Hanzo finds his chance to try to impress him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pow: Right In The Kissah (Alt. Wound and Kiss)

Hanzo liked McCree. More than a friend- more than more than a friend, and it was blatantly obvious. Even the Soldier knew of his ‘crush’. Luckily, McCree had been clueless for the most part, and that was for the best. He’d get- well, distracted. But there were plenty of otherissues to get the cowboy distracted. 

And distraction was what brought him here. 

 

“It’s fine, really. Look, I even got- um, this thing. I forgot what it’s called.”

:A tourniquet is what you’re thinking of; that’s not a tourniquet, it’s just one of your bandanas tied around your thigh… God look at all this blood!”

Hanzo gulps and scratches the back of his neck where sweat prickles from nerves. Mercy does her best to make the entire situation as calm and productive as possible, but it only brought a more tense air for everyone. McCree even did his part, trying to boast about what his part was in the mission, but his words would cut out with a hiss of pain every time his skin was pinched. 

In a rather tense fifteen minutes, Mercy was able to hastily sew up the messy gash and tape some gauze over it. 

“There, that should be enough until we get back to base.” Mercy got up and helped McCree onto his feet, grimacing as he just about yelled in pain. “Shit- you can’t stand, let alone walk on that leg. Hanzo- can you help him?”

Of course, he thought, I always get dragged into these awkward situations. Hanzo rolled his eyes as he slung McCree’s arm over his shoulder. The feeling of the cowboy pressed against him for support, for help, was both empowering and fulfilling, but Hanzo was more twisted in the gut from a different emotion. He’d pretend to be annoyed, but in all reality he was scared. 

“Don’t worry- I’ll be fine,” McCree grunted with a grin, teasing Hanzo’s more seemingly burdened annoyance. Again, the archer looked away, somehow a little comforted. 

 

It took about a week for McCree to start improving. He had gotten an infection the day after and was essentially knocked out from both the pain and the medication that was supplied to him. Mercy, for the most part, was the only person to really see him to help him clean his wounds. Everyone else felt too awkward. After the infection had passed though, things were looking better. 

“She says it’ll scar. I’m actually really excited about it. Nice story behind it.” Jesse spoke almost dully. That was one of many problems, but surely the biggest, about having to stay out of missions, boredom. The first day, with everyone out of the base, Jesse found humor in yelling his lungs sore and drinking straight from the milk jug. But then everything was boring again. 

“Anything cool happen on the mission today?” He asks with a glimmer of hope. 

“Not really…” Across the table from him, Hanzo looks about as dull as Jesse whilst he eats rice, but he insists it’s just his resting face. “Just a mission.”

McCree seems to sigh sadly, which only made Hanzo grunt and throw him a bone. “I shot an arrow right through some guy’s head.”

“Really? You’re shitting me…” the statement seems to brighten him right up, so Hanzo rolls with it. 

“Yeah, he fell to his knees like in one of your Western films.”

“Wow, that’s so cool-! I…” Jesse frowns, grumbling softly, “I wish I’d been there.”

That backfired. 

Hanzo puts his rice down with a heavy breath. He finally notices Jesse’s tired stature, despite being in bed most of the day, with hair mussed up and state of being overall sad. He’s been alone for a while. 

“I have a proposition for you.” Hanzo speaks through the silence. McCree perks up a bit, almost like a puppy, and it makes Hanzo’s heart start beating harder. “How would you like to watch a movie with me later tonight? You can pick which one if you’d like to…”

A small smile actually crawls onto the cowboy’s face. “I’d love that- gee- how about at ten?” It was a little late for Hanzo’s liking, but he nodded anyway. “That’s great-!”

 

“So, which one’s the good and which one is the bad?”

Jesse points at the screen flippantly. “Clint Eastwood is the good, obviously.”

“Then is- um- Tuco the ugly or…”

“No- no, he’s bad, but good and bad come together to defeat the ugly truth that is Lee Van Cleef.”

“I saw in a wiki article that Tuco was actually the Ugly.”

McCree appears almost insulted. “I had been dying to say that line, don’t take it away from me.”

Hanzo raises his hand in defense and said no more on the subject. Although this movie wasn’t his cup of tea, seeing McCree light up over familiar and favorite scenes made it worthwhile. 

“They seem to have a better fashion sense than you do at least,” Hanzo comments in a cheeky manner once the credits start rolling. 

Already, McCree just looks physically better from just spending time with someone. Not so lonely. “Hush Hanz! You just don’t get my fashion taste.” He moves to eject the disc and visibly grimaces as his leg bends. Hanzo seems to watch him closely as Jesse hisses and sits back. “In tarnation- this stupid thing-!”

Hanzo raises a brow, remaining mostly silent for a good moment whilst Jesse seems to be mentally preparing himself for pain. Regretfully, the Japanese man swallows and questions, “Did you need help changing the dressings?”

He hates to ask the question, but only because he knows how much it wounds McCree’s pride. He knows, he gets it because he’s the same way. That was one of their core traits to being in Overwatch: trusting in your companions. Even after all this time, it was still difficult just to do that. So, Hanzo wouldn’t blame McCree if he said no. 

Jesse averts his gaze almost immediately and seems to shift away. “Sure- I suppose. As long as you’re careful.”

“I’m very precise- and very careful.”

“I know.”

It’s with nervous hand and a great deal of hesitancy that McCree unbuttons his trousers. The wound is on his thigh, from a very close gunshot, and had grazed a major artery. Within four days and careful treatment it had healed up rather well. No longer did it seep a steady stream of blood or swell with infection and pus. 

Hanzo had cleaned wounds before, obviously, having to learn how from years of assassination attempts. He pulls back the gauze wrappings with care, the last few layers moist with sweat and traces of leftover blood. Although not infected, the wound still looks horrific, and some of the stitches had opened from continuous stretching. “You should tell Mercy of this.”

“I know- but later please. I don’t think I have the energy…” McCree sounds almost ashamed, maybe from how weak he seemed in this position or maybe embarrassed by how poorly he’s taken care of himself. 

Hanzo doesn’t dwell on the sight to hopefully spare a bit of dignity for McCree. He takes a wet cloth and dabs along the outermost edges of the wound to clean up the dried blood. No matter how gentle he tries to be, Hanzo can feel the flesh beneath the tips of his fingers ripple and tense up as through bracing to brace through the potential ache. 

“Please try to relax, McCree.” Hanzo seems to nearly order through gritted teeth. It wouldn’t go well if it kept up like this. Even with his words, McCree isn’t able to relax. If anything, his leg quakes with either pain or fear. 

The archer moves on, much quicker this time, but still mostly gentle as he drags the cloth over the major tear in flesh. The body beneath him ripples and shivers with just the faintest gasp of pain before McCree’s leg is jerking hard enough to draw blood. Hanzo moves before thinking, pressing down on the cowboy’s thigh to keep him still and eliciting a loud moan from him. 

“McCree-I told-!” When Hanzo peers up at his friend, McCree is instantly looking away. He’s blushing, pupils blown wide and breath coming out in harsh puffs. It’s only then that the archer notices the bulge from under Jesse’s briefs. “Um… McCree?”

“Yea, Hanz?” Jesse seems to be ignoring the predicament he’s in, maybe it’d go away if he pretended it wasn’t nearly pointing Hanzo directly in the face. 

Hanzo gulps, glancing back down at McCree’s other concealed pistol, and he’s caught pleasantly off-guard by the stain of precum developing against the confining fabric. Unknowingly licking his lips, he tries to imagine what the cowboy might taste like, maybe cigars and whiskey. With fingers still held along his tender thigh, the archer can’t help gripping the cowboy firmly, as though he might grow shy and leave. But he doesn’t. Instead, as deft fingers probe his tender wound, McCree shudders and releases a sultry moan with bated breath. His cock twitches eagerly from its confines once more. 

A bit of saliva dribbles down down Hanzo’s chin and into his beard with how intoxicating the sight is. He hardly realizes he’s leaning in until his nose is buried in fabric and mouth occupied with cloth-clad flesh. 

“Hanzo-” his name comes out not as a plea for attention, nor a remark to stop, but a request to keep going. He detaches himself to pull the fabric away, McCree’s cock springing up and thick with eagerness, and Hanzo can’t help humming at the sight. He takes a moment to observe him, sure, a lot of admiration was directed to his thick and dripping dick, but the best of all was his flushed, bright red face with lips parted to give way to harsh breaths. When he opens his eyes and looks shyly back down at the archer, Jesse’s expression twists with a little embarrassment. “Hanzo- please, I can’t keep my composure.”

“Hush, cowboy, you have no composure.”

A firm stroke along his engorged shaft effectively silences McCree, or at least reduces him to lustful moans and breaths. Hanzo strokes him firmly, tongue poking out to wet his lips, desire overwhelming him at the sight of precum already dripping down the tip. Fuck the waiting. 

The archer licks a firm stripe up the shaft, picking up the stray bead of cum at the tip before swirling around the head briefly and taking him into his mouth. He tastes exactly how Hanzo had imagined. Any words that the cowboy may have wanted to say were silenced once Hanzo had taken him to his base, the head of his cock just barely making the Japanese man gag as it hit the back of his throat. 

He raises his head and sucks along the length like a popsicle, only to devour him back up in a skilled swallow. He had to have done this before- he had to have. 

“Hanzo…” Again, his voice is weak and breathy, but this time he actually spoke further. “Please- I- could you…” McCree looked so bashful, biting his lip to stifle himself and with blush reaching his ears. He didn’t have to finish his sentence, and the archer was more than happy to fulfill his unspoken request. 

With delicate fingers, Hanzo traces the fragile wound on the cowboy’s thigh before pressing down on the slightly swollen flesh. The movement brings McCree jerking and elicits a rather whoreish moan from deep within him. His legs twitch harshly as well as his dick, Hanzo notices, to which he forced the man’s hip down with his other hand. While doing all this, the archer continues to bob and suck thoroughly, able to effectively hone his multi-tasking skills. 

McCree soon buckles from weakness, able to pant brief words and phrases of encouragement. “Hanz-! Fuck… Fuck- Harder- please. I need it- I- don’t stop- hah- it- mngh- make me bleed…”

At this point, his judgement and decision making had receded for carnal desire- and Hanzo can’t stop himself from fulfilling his cowboy’s request. His finger presses sharply inward, pulling out a full-fledge scream from McCree’s already havoced body, and pulling a few stitches along the way. The blood seeps out and coats the archer’s fingers like paint- and there’s something about it that makes him shiver. 

Before much time passes, Hanzo removes his hand from McCree’s waist to instead shove down his own pants and furiously stroke his own cock. McCree’s words are strangled and barely intelligible, every syllable cut out each time his wound is penetrated. 

Blood is gushing out now, painting McCree’s thighs and Hanzo’s palm. Suddenly, his mouth is filled with a salty substance, and Hanzo pulls off in just enough time to have the last few spurts of Jesse’s cum landing on his face. 

The poor guy is a complete mess, bloody and disheveled, but grinning just the slightest bit. The archer withdraws his fingers, cumming at the sight of McCree so undone and pleased. 

It’s silent then, with Hanzo kneeled before McCree, face pressed against his unwounded thigh while McCree tries to occupy himself with how beautiful the ceiling looks. 

“I guess this means you like me too, huh?” Jesse suddenly spoke, looking down at the archer. 

“Hnn, I suppose yes.” Hanzo mutters almost sheepishly. 

“Hah- good!”

Once it’s silent again, Hanzo moves to sit next to the cowboy. 

“Mercy’s not going to be happy with you.” The archer soon observes. 

McCree laughs heartily, alive for the first time in a long while. “You’ll be in trouble as well, you know…”

And Hanzo raises a brow. “We’ll see about that.”


End file.
